Elias stumbled forward as the air around him shifted, the remnants of the throne room melting away like ink bleeding into water. The vibrant colors and heated tension gave way to an empty void, a weightless expanse where sound and light seemed muted, almost afraid to intrude. He caught his breath, his pulse still pounding in his ears from what he had just witnessed.
He stood there, alone in the stillness, his hands trembling as though the echoes of Seris’s final act still reverberated through him. The silence was oppressive, heavy with unspoken questions and a lingering sense of dread.
Then, like a ripple breaking the surface of a still lake, the observer’s voice returned, calm yet unyielding.
“You can’t leave it behind, can you?” the voice said, neither accusing nor comforting, as though stating a simple truth. “It’s written into the way you stand, the way you breathe. You carry it in every step, every thought. That moment changed everything.”
Elias exhaled sharply through his nose, his fists tightening at his sides. “Don’t act like you know me,” he said, his voice barely steady. “You didn’t see it. You didn’t feel the heat. You didn’t hear them screaming.”
The observer’s tone remained steady, but there was a flicker of curiosity in it now. “Then tell me, Elias. What did you see? What did you feel?”
Elias hesitated, his gaze falling to the featureless void beneath his feet. He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “I saw something I can’t unsee,” he said finally, his voice quieter, haunted. “I felt what it’s like to be powerless. To know that everything you’ve ever loved can disappear in an instant, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
The observer let the quiet stretch, its presence steady but unyielding. When it spoke again, its tone was thoughtful, almost questioning. “Do you think it will hurt less if you keep it at arm’s length? Or is it the weight of knowing you can’t change it that keeps you from looking?”
Elias’s gaze remained fixed on the void beneath him, his breath shallow. After a long pause, he looked up, his eyes clouded but searching. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to see,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “All I know is that it’s still here… and it always will be.”
The observer’s voice was softer this time, almost curious. “And what happened after?”
Elias’s shoulders tensed. He wanted to push back, to continue deflecting, but the inevitable question loomed over him, as if demanding an answer. “After?” he repeated bitterly. “After, we pretended it was over. We ignored his warnings, called him a traitor, a madman. But then they came.
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The throne room dissolved around Elias like smoke, fading into a void of stillness and silence. He stood alone now, though the weight of what he had just seen lingered heavily in the air. The observer’s voice broke through the quiet, measured and calm.
“You hesitate,” it said. “Why?”
Elias’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His voice, when he spoke, was low, almost a whisper. “Because I don’t want to remember.”
The observer paused for a moment, as if considering his words. “Yet you carry it with you. Every step, every breath, this moment is etched into your very soul. Tell me, Elias. What did you see?”
He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Images flashed through his mind: Seris’s final cry, the blinding light of his departure, and the heavy silence that followed. He felt again the knot of fear in his chest, the way the air had seemed thinner in those moments.
“I saw a man consumed by his own flames,” Elias said finally, his voice tight with restrained emotion. “I saw a kingdom betray itself, and I saw how easily everything we built could fall apart.”
The observer’s voice was softer this time, almost curious. “And what happened after?”
Elias’s shoulders tensed. He wanted to push back, to deflect, but the question loomed over him, demanding an answer. “After?” he repeated bitterly. “After, we pretended it was over. We ignored his warnings, called him a traitor, a madman. But then they came.”
Before Elias could say more, the void around him began to ripple. The floor beneath his feet solidified, taking on the rough texture of cobblestone. The faint hum of magic filled the air, growing louder with each passing second.
When the scene came into focus, Elias found himself standing in the middle of a bloodstained courtyard. Shouts of battle and the clash of steel echoed around him, the chaos swallowing him whole. Warriors clad in dented armor fought desperately against an overwhelming force.
Flames and lightning streaked across the sky, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke and blood. The once-pristine banners of Aurethil hung in tatters, their golden emblems charred and unrecognizable.
Elias’s breath hitched as he turned, his eyes catching the familiar spires of the castle. They were cracked and crumbling, their brilliance dimmed by the fires raging in the city below. And above it all, the floating islands that had once been Aurethil’s pride were falling—massive chunks of enchanted earth plummeting from the sky, their descent tearing through the air with a deafening roar.
“This…” Elias choked out, his voice trembling. “This was the day. The day everything ended."
A soldier crashed to the ground mere feet from Elias, his armor caved in from a blow that had come too fast to see. The man gasped for breath, his fingers clawing at the dirt before going still. Elias stumbled back, his foot slipping on the blood-slick stones.
“All of this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the cacophony. “We were warned about this, but it happened anyway. What Halric said that day was true. It was our fault, we let this happen.”
“It was inevitable,” the observer replied, its tone carrying neither judgment nor pity.
“A kingdom left to stagnate under inaction was always going to break, Elias. Seris''s wrath didn’t just consume it—it filled the void left by Arlon’s refusal to act."
Elias didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the chaos around him—the soldiers desperately trying to hold the line, the mages weaving spells of destruction, and the invaders cutting through their defenses like a storm.
A deafening explosion rocked the courtyard as a chunk of a floating island crashed into the castle’s outer wall. The shockwave sent bodies flying, debris raining down in a deadly torrent.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Elias flinched, his arms instinctively coming up to shield himself. “Why are you showing me this?” he demanded, his voice raw. “I already lived it. I don’t need to see it again.”
“Because I want to see it,” the observer said, its tone curious yet deliberate. “The moment that shaped you. The moment that made you who you are.”
Before Elias could respond, a familiar sensation washed over him—a heat that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. His body froze as his surroundings grew unnaturally still.
And then, it happened.
The sky shifted to a sickening shade of orange, as if the heavens themselves had caught fire. At first, it was subtle—a faint shimmering in the air, like the heat haze of a distant flame. The temperature began to rise, oppressive and suffocating, pressing down on everything and everyone.
Elias’s breath hitched as the world around him seemed to hold its breath. The vibrant colors of the courtyard dulled, the edges of the stonework darkening as if the life were being leeched from the earth itself. A soft, crackling sound reached his ears, faint at first, like dry leaves crumbling in the wind.
Then, the first flames appeared—not in a single burst, but in countless tiny licks of fire spreading outward in unnatural patterns. They moved slowly, methodically, consuming the edges of buildings, the banners fluttering in the hot wind, and even the air itself.
Elias took a step back, his foot landing on stone that had begun to glow faintly red beneath him. The courtyard’s cobblestones cracked and splintered, their surfaces blistering as the heat intensified. He watched in horror as the grass in the distance withered, blackened, and crumbled into ash, the fire consuming everything in its wake without a visible source.
The sky above deepened into a molten hue, and the shimmering haze thickened, distorting the shapes of the collapsing city around him. It was as though the very fabric of the world was unraveling, burning from the inside out.
The screams of the people sounded like an alarm and faded almost as abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the relentless, hungry crackle of the flames. Even the invaders, once so fierce and determined, faltered as the fire reached them. Their armor glowed white-hot before their forms were swallowed whole, vanishing into the consuming inferno.
Elias’s knees buckled as he felt the heat draw closer, every breath searing his lungs. His surroundings blurred, the world around him melting into a kaleidoscope of ash and fire. “This isn’t fire,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “This is something worse.”
The observer’s voice broke through, soft and measured. “Wrath, Elias. Not fire. Wrath burns indiscriminately, until there’s nothing left.”
Elias clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as he tried to block out the sights and sounds. “Make it stop,” he begged, his voice a desperate plea.
“This is what you carry,” the observer said, its tone quiet yet probing. “The weight of it lingers in every step you take. You don’t have to look away, Elias—just tell me what you see.”
Elias’s voice trembled as he whispered, his gaze fixed on the consuming flames that stretched endlessly before him. “I see hell.”
When the flames finally receded, the silence was deafening. The once-bustling courtyard was unrecognizable, reduced to a smoldering wasteland of ash and rubble. The air hung thick with the stench of burnt flesh and charred earth, an acrid reminder of the fire’s indiscriminate hunger.
Elias staggered to his feet, his body trembling, every muscle screaming with exhaustion. He coughed against the suffocating heat that still radiated from the ground, his lungs heavy with smoke and dust. His gaze swept over the destruction—bodies twisted and blackened beyond recognition, buildings reduced to skeletal remnants, the land itself scarred and broken.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to take it all in. His thoughts spiraled, tangling together in a knot of fear, anger, and guilt.
“This is why,” he said finally, his voice hollow and distant. “This is why I push myself, why I study, why I fight. Because if I don’t… it’ll happen again.”
The observer said nothing, its presence lingering just at the edge of Elias’s awareness.
He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing against the cracked and blackened ground. His fingers brushed against the ash, its texture fine and fragile, like the remnants of a world that no longer existed. “Fire doesn’t choose,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “It doesn’t think. It doesn’t care. It just… takes.”
He clenched his fists, letting the ash slip between his fingers. “And yet I’ve devoted everything to it. All my time, my energy, my focus—on this thing that destroys. This thing I can barely control. What does that make me?”
The wind picked up, scattering the ash into the air, swirling it around him in ghostly trails. He stared at the faint traces of flame still flickering in the distance, their light small but relentless, as if mocking his words.
“Maybe that’s why,” he continued, his voice growing bitter. “Because fire doesn’t care. It doesn’t hold grudges, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t doubt itself. It just burns, no matter what’s in its path.”
Elias closed his eyes, his mind replaying the chaos he had witnessed: the screams, the heat, the way everything—people, buildings, the land—had been stripped away to nothingness.
“Maybe I thought,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else, “that if I could master it… if I could understand it… I could stop it from ever doing this again. Or maybe… maybe I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t afraid of it.”
The observer’s voice finally returned, quiet and measured. “And are you?”
Elias opened his eyes, his expression unreadable as he stared at the flickering remnants of the inferno. “Terrified,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the weight of the word. “But fear isn’t enough to stop me. It never has been.”
He stood slowly, brushing the ash from his hands. His legs felt like lead, but he forced himself upright, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the flames had finally begun to die. “Fire doesn’t care,” he said again, his tone cold, almost detached. “It just burns. Maybe that’s why I’ve spent my life chasing it—because I know exactly what to expect. It never lies. It never pretends to be anything else.”
“If it destroys everything in its path, then maybe that’s all it was ever meant to do. And if I’m the one trying to control it… well, maybe that’s my problem to figure out.”
The observer remained silent, its presence a quiet acknowledgment of Elias’s words as the wasteland stretched endlessly around them.
The air around Elias began to shimmer, the oppressive heat and the scorched wasteland dissolving like a mirage. He staggered slightly, his body still trembling from the weight of what he had seen and felt. The observer’s voice returned, steady and even as ever.
“This concludes your trial, Elias,” it said. “You’ve shown what needed to be seen.”
Before he could respond, the space around him shifted entirely. The void filled with light, and the next moment, Elias found himself standing in an expansive arena. Rows of stone seating stretched high above him, their edges lined with intricate carvings that pulsed faintly with magic. Around him, students began to appear one by one, their expressions a mixture of confusion, awe, and relief.
Elias blinked, his senses still catching up to the sudden change. He turned in place, taking in the sheer scale of the arena. The hum of magic was everywhere, faint but undeniable, woven into the very fabric of the place.
He noticed a boy a few feet away appear, stumbling slightly before steadying himself. Others began to fill the space—some sitting on the benches, others standing frozen as if trying to comprehend what had just happened to them. Whispers began to ripple through the growing crowd, but Elias barely heard them.
His attention snapped to a familiar figure as it materialized a short distance away. Kiran stood there, shaking his head slightly as though clearing his thoughts.
“Kiran!” Elias called out, relief and excitement breaking through his voice.
Kiran turned toward him, a grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of Elias. Without hesitation, Elias jogged over, his earlier tension melting away.
The two met with a quick, confident high-five, their hands slapping together with a satisfying crack.
“You made it!” Kiran said, his grin broad. “I knew you’d pull it off.”
Elias smirked, his usual sarcasm creeping back in. “Of course I did. What, you thought I’d let you one-up me?”
Kiran laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just glad we’re both still standing. That trial… It wasn’t exactly a stroll through the village.”
Elias nodded, the weight of his own experience still lingering at the edges of his mind. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ll tell you about it later, but for now, let’s just say it was… intense."
“Deal,” Kiran said, his grin softening as they both glanced around at the growing crowd of students.
Elias exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his body finally start to ease. For now, he had made it through, and so had Kiran. Whatever was coming next, they’d face it together.